


Most Desperately

by sleepymccoy



Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: But Bones is in every scene so dont worry, Holy shit this entire fic is designed for mutual pining, Like your heart cant handle the mutual pining, M/M, Minor Injuries, Mutual Pining, Mutual Pining in a cave, Mutual Pining in a cell, Mutual Pining in a shuttle craft, Mutual Pining on a planet, Mutual Pining on the bridge, yeah - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-18
Updated: 2017-01-18
Packaged: 2018-09-18 09:04:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9377810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepymccoy/pseuds/sleepymccoy
Summary: Bones and Spock want to kiss each other like all the time and it keeps getting worse omg are they gonna kiss??





	1. the not kiss

Jim was distracting the guard, almost leaning through the bars as he flirted with the poor man watching their cell. Spock was walking around the wall, looking for weaknesses, cracks, faults in the metal. Anything that could give them a way out. McCoy followed him, casually placing himself in between the guard and Spock just in case the guard should ever tear his eyes away from Jim's smile.

 

“You know,” McCoy muttered. Spock paused and looked at him. McCoy's hand was under his chin, his pointer finger tugging against his lower lip in thought. “We may not need to dig our way out, Jim's halfway to getting this guy to hand over the keys in exchange for a kiss.” 

 

Spock raised an eyebrow and McCoy grinned at him, arching an eyebrow in glee. Spock found himself watching McCoy's lips, regretting how McCoy had dropped his hand and was no longer worrying his lip with his finger.

 

“Regardless, I would prefer a back up,” Spock said.

 

The guard took a step and McCoy shuffled to the side so that Spock was still mostly hidden. “Perhaps you just don't much like the idea of Jim kissing someone,” McCoy suggested, his voice pleased and teasing.

 

It was certainly not Jim that Spock was thinking about kissing right now. “Who the Captain chooses to kiss is not my business. Nor is it yours, Doctor,” Spock said pointedly.

 

McCoy rolled his eyes. His hand came back up to his mouth, his thumb tapping against his lips. After a moment he glanced at Spock. “Back to it, then,” he said, pushing Spock's arm so that he spun slightly to face the wall. 

 

Spock continued his search for a weak point, trying to ignore the fact that McCoy's hand had gone directly from touching his mouth to touching Spock.

  
  
  
  
  
\-----  
  
  
  
  
  


“What's going on with these lights?” McCoy asked the Bridge, his question not pointed at any particular person. After a beat it was clear that neither Jim nor Spock would respond, so Chekov did.

 

“We are passing through a particularly dense nebula, there may be turbulence too,” Chekov said.

 

McCoy hummed, leaning against the railing to watch Spock judgmentally. Spock ignored him, continuing to look into his viewer and study the nebula. The lights flickered again and McCoy glanced up in concern, letting his arms drop from their crossed position to casually hold onto the railing. 

 

“Turbulence, hey?” McCoy muttered under his breath.

 

Spock stood up and picked up a Padd, turning to face McCoy. “The turbulence shouldn't be too bad,” he said, taking a step to walk over to Jim.

 

Just then the turbulence hit. Everyone in a seat stayed more or less where they were, but Spock, whose foot was raised to take a step, found himself unbalanced and flung towards McCoy. 

 

McCoy automatically let go of the railing and caught Spock's careening body. The Padd hit the floor loudly and McCoy thought for a moment that some part of Spock's body had broken, causing the noise. 

 

McCoy didn't let go of Spock's arms when the ship stopped rattling, instead full of unwarranted concern. “Y’alright?” he mumbled.

 

Spock pushed gently away from McCoy, one hand on the railing, the other having landed on McCoy's hip. Spock paused in front of him, his eyes roaming McCoy's body in a cursory check. “I am uninjured,” he said simply. 

 

McCoy nodded, aggressively ignoring the intimacy he felt and the almost overwhelming desire to kiss Spock. He could feel Spock's breath on his face, it was too much. He was entirely aware of everything his body was doing and could feel how his heartbeat had sped up dramatically.

 

“You ok, Spock?” Jim asked. McCoy jumped slightly and let go off Spock's shoulders, which he'd forgotten he'd been holding. Spock stepped back.

 

“Yes, Captain,” Spock said. He picked up his Padd, glanced inscrutably at McCoy, and walked over to Jim.

  
  
  
  


\-----

 

 

 

Spock and McCoy had been working in the science labs for nearly sixteen hours now. They were closer to finding a cure for the odd blood disease the landing party had brought back, but not close enough. Spock had noticed his eyes growing tired and a fleeting moment of fatigue before he had squashed it and refocused his efforts. He could only imagine how McCoy was feeling.

 

“I reckon it'll be slide three, that one will have the damaged cells we're looking for,” McCoy said, carefully placing five new slides down.

 

“Why?” Spock asked, wondering what McCoy could have possibly noticed about slide three with just his naked eyes.

 

McCoy jerked his head to the side. “I got a feelin’,” he said. Spock tried to stop himself from rolling his eyes and went back to comparing the white blood cell count to other diseases they'd encountered.

 

A minute later McCoy thunked his head on the table dramatically. Spock assumed he was trying to be humourous and ignored him, but when McCoy didn't move for a few seconds he paused and watched the exhausted man.

 

“I really thought it'd be three,” McCoy groaned.

 

McCoy's hands remained where they had been resting under his chin, before his head had dropped. His elbows were on the table, his arms going straight up as his hands hung in mid air about his head.

 

“You should not put all your faith in a randomly chosen slide, it is completely illogical,” Spock said. Spock reached out, his hand fluttering around McCoy's tangled fingers, unsure how to calm him.

 

McCoy sighed and Spock saw his head nod. He filled with sorrow, sorry that he had not found the cure that would save the four crewmen and let McCoy rest. Spock let his hand fall between McCoy's, tangling in with his fingers. McCoy's shoulders stiffened noticeably as Spock softly pulled McCoy's hands down to rest on the table. 

 

McCoy looked up, his eyes wide and slightly wet. “You should take a break, Doctor,” Spock suggested. McCoy began to shake his head, but Spock interrupted. “Eat, sleep for thirty minutes. I will wake you if anything develops.”

 

McCoy seemed to relax, hopefully, Spock thought, in acceptance. McCoy's fingers tightened around Spock's, reminding him that their hands were still intertwined on the table. Spock refused to consider how like a kiss their hands were. He also ignored how sweet McCoy's lips looked, considering instead the importance of their job here. McCoy nodded and pulled his hands away. Spock couldn't help but catalogue the moment, observing how McCoy's fingers trailed sleepily across the palm of Spock's hand. 

 

A shiver went down Spock's spine, but he ignored it. He would deal with the implications later, when lives were not at stake.

 

“You're taking the next break, Spock,” McCoy muttered as he left. Spock let him leave without response, certain that he would not be taking the next break no matter what McCoy may say.

 

  
  
  
\-----  
  
  


 

 

McCoy sprinted around the corner, hitting the wall in his haste. He bounced off and used the momentum to fling himself into the room even faster. 

 

“Spock!” he called, searching each cell he passed for the Vulcan. One after another they were empty. “Spock!”

 

“Doctor?” 

 

McCoy went instantly to the sound, skipping the cells between them. He hit the bars with a clang, pressing himself against them to get a look at Spock.

 

“Thank God,” McCoy muttered, his heart lurching in relief or panic, he couldn't tell. Spock was conscious, which was more than he'd hoped for, but he was pale and had remained sitting, despite McCoy's arrival. “Are you hurt?”

 

Spock shook his head. “Just malnourished,” he said quietly. 

 

McCoy stepped back and studied the cell door. He considered telling Spock to scoot back, but decided he would probably be safe and it would be better to not have him exert himself. “Close your eyes,” he said instead, pulling his phaser out and squinting against the bright light of the metallic explosion as he destroyed the lock.

 

The door opened easily and McCoy rushed in, kneeling in front of Spock and lifting his head. “Follow my finger,” he said, raising his finger and moving it smoothly around in front of Spock's eyes. He was slow to react to a swift change of direction, but otherwise fine. That indicated exhaustion more than injury, in keeping with McCoy's observations so far.  

 

McCoy grabbed Spock's head, holding him still as he stared into his eyes. Spock seemed to focus on him for a moment then faded out again. McCoy leaned forward, pressing his forehead against Spock's. His hand slid behind Spock's head, his fingers tangling in his matted hair as McCoy closed his eyes and breathed, feeling Spock's life calm him. 

 

McCoy's eyes fluttered open and he found himself watching Spock's lips. He could feel Spock's breath on his face, close as they were, and he wanted nothing more than to move closer and breath with Spock, joining him. Kissing him.

 

“How are you alive?” he muttered instead.

 

“Tried to break the wall. I failed, but I punctured a water supply,” Spock said quietly, some of his words slurring.

 

McCoy leaned back, ignoring the drive in him to stay close, and studied the walls. Sure enough there was a shattering of stone in the corner with water trickling to the floor. A thought occurred to McCoy and he looked at Spock's hands. One was fine, but his right hand was bruised and cut and showing clear signs of infection.

 

“Dammit, Spock,” McCoy said, standing up. “You said you weren't hurt! 

 

“Forgot,” Spock mumbled. 

 

“We've got to go, Spock,” McCoy said softly.

 

“Adrenaline?” Spock requested. McCoy felt his heart sink. Spock didn't request medicine, it just didn't happen. And the one time he needed it, McCoy didn't have anything. 

 

McCoy kneeled down in front of Spock. “I don't have my medkit, darling. Look at me, I'm in a green tunic. I've got nothing but Sulu's phaser.”

 

Spock looked at him slowly then nodded, reaching out for help.

 

McCoy sighed and helped Spock stand, taking as much of his weight as he could manage, and slowly walked him out of the cell. As they walked Spock seemed to regain some strength and McCoy found himself allowing himself to think they might make it out.

 

“Darling?” Spock queried along the way.

 

“Mister Spock,” McCoy said breathlessly, “You're half dead on my arm, I'll call you whatever I damn well like. Now hurry it up, Jim's been worried sick.”


	2. the kiss

 -McCoy's POV-

 

 

“You still awake?” McCoy prodded. Spock had fallen silent, his prattle about the natural flora of the planet they were on apparently having run dry.

 

“Yes,” Spock breathed.

 

“Good,” McCoy said, “This fire's about lit, then I'll be able to check your head. Keep talking.”

 

Spock sighed. “I have nothing left to discuss, Doctor,” he said.

 

“Like pulling god damned teeth,” McCoy muttered to himself. He'd had to suggest the topic of local flora himself and that'd been painful enough to listen to. “That's alright,” he said louder, “I'm done now, the fire should hold.” He stood up and walked over to the log Spock was lying on.

 

He had sat Spock down on the log when they'd arrived ten minutes previously, instructing him not to move his head needlessly and to stay awake until he could be checked for a concussion. Spock had sat straddling the log, leaning forward onto his hands to stay upright. While McCoy had been focused on the fire, Spock had lain down and was resting, facing the ceiling, with his feet on the floor either side of the log.

 

McCoy knelt one leg on the log between Spock's legs, keeping his other foot on the ground. He sat Spock up gently, his hands on Spock's shoulders, helping to steady him. Once Spock was sitting up straight, McCoy shuffled slightly closer, running his hands lightly through Spock's hair, searching for the bump that must have formed by now. Spocks fine hair slid through his fingers. He found the lump just below the very back of Spock's head, over the Vulcan sight area. He would have to perform a full sight exam back on the ship to be sure Spock hadn't been damaged.

 

“Are you still dizzy?” McCoy asked softly, still checking the rest of Spock's skull for bumps or cuts.

 

“No, I believe it has passed,” Spock muttered.

 

“D'you remember how you got injured?”

 

“Of course.”

 

McCoy sighed in frustration when Spock fell silent. “Tell me how,” he prompted.

 

“A large bird flew at you and, while moving you out of its flight path, I hit my head on an unfortunately placed rock.” Spock's head had tipped forward while he talked and was now resting against McCoy's chest. No memory loss, McCoy forced the thought into his conscious mind to keep his focus. Spock rarely touched him, and here he was pressing against his chest, right by his heart. McCoy ignored the feelings he hid for the Vulcan.

 

“Any ringing in your ears, or nausea?” McCoy asked, still refusing to accept how Spock was leaning into him. He was almost aggressively ignoring the effect the feeling of Spock's hair between his fingers was having on his heartbeat, telling himself again and again that his medical expertise was required.

 

“Negative,” Spock said. At least he wasn't slurring.

 

McCoy sat down in front of Spock, his left leg curled under him, his right still on the ground, thrown over the top of Spock's left leg in an unintentionally intimate position. McCoy decided it would bring more attention to it if he rearranged, so he left his leg where it was.

 

“Follow my finger,” he instructed. The light was dim, but Spock focused on his finger and followed along easily. He would still need an eye test, but at least he wasn't blind or having trouble focusing.

 

“Does your head hurt?”

 

“Of course, I hit a rock.”

 

McCoy glared instead of laughing. “Does it hurt anywhere except the area of impact? Any pressure?” Their thighs were still pressing against the others and McCoy was struggling to focus on anything else.

 

Spock went quiet. After a moment his brows furrowed. Some people had trouble differentiating pain, Spock was clearly struggling.

 

McCoy stood back up, ignoring the brief grief he felt as their legs separated. He raised his hands and rested his pointer fingers against Spock's temples. “Any pain here?” he asked.

 

Spock closed his eyes. “No,” he whispered.

 

McCoy moved his hands further back, carving a line through Spock's hair and paused just before the tip of Spock's ears. “Here?”

 

“No,” Spock whispered, his eyes still closed.

 

McCoy's finger moved two inches up and back, just above his lambdoid suture. “Here?” he asked, finding himself whispering to match Spock.

 

“No,” Spock replied. McCoy felt Spock's breath on his lips.

 

“Good.”

 

Spock opened his eyes, making McCoy realise just how close to Spock he'd drawn. Spock didn't have a concussion, he was fine. McCoy tried to focus on his diagnosis but instead found himself letting his gaze flit from Spock's eyes to his lips. His fingers had relaxed, stroking through Spock's hair like it was precious.

 

Mindlessly, he filled the empty space between them and kissed Spock. A thrill ran down his spine and his hands tightened in Spock's hair, betraying his wont to never let go. He felt Spock gasp then press his lips back against his, kissing him. Doubtlessly by accident. With that thought McCoy hastily stood up, almost tripping over Spock's legs that were still entangled in his own.

 

“Shit,” McCoy muttered, turning away from Spock instantly and running a hand through his own hair. He regretted it at once, the sensation reminding him of his hands on Spock's head. He groaned and covered his face with his hands, still facing the fire.

 

“Sorry,” he said through his hands. “It's just… Sorry.”

 

Spock knew full well how McCoy felt, and McCoy knew full well that Spock did not reciprocate. It had been unprofessional and unfair to kiss him.

 

“No, it is…” Spock trailed off.

 

Fine, he had been going to say it was fine, McCoy thought. But it wasn't fine and any truce they'd been able to reach had been fucked over by McCoy.

 

“If there is something about my behaviour I can change...” Spock trailed off, his tone hesitant, almost fearful.

 

McCoy spun around. “No!” he interrupted. Spock looked up at him, his eyes wide with alarm. “I'm your friend,” McCoy said, “I'm sorry about this, but - but I am your friend.” He was desperate to fix this. Spock shouldn't leave this incident feeling like he had been leading McCoy on or like he had to change his behaviour in any way.

 

Spock was staring at McCoy, his hands held tightly together in front of him. After an uncomfortable silence he said, “We work well together.”

 

“We do,” McCoy agreed. He felt like his insides were shriveling in on themselves. “We do, yeah.”

 

Silence fell. Spock was still watching McCoy, his eyes wide and vulnerable. McCoy couldn't meet his gaze. McCoy waved a hand towards Spock's head, still looking at the ground. “I don't think you have a concussion, but, ah, let me know if you feel dizzy or nauseous, yeah?”

 

Spock nodded. “Of course,” he said.

 

McCoy nodded back and, after a beat, turned and walked to the other side of the fire to sit down.

  
  
  
\-----  
  
-Spock's POV-

 

 

 

McCoy had finally finished building the fire. A job Spock could have completed in less than three minutes had taken the good doctor nearly fifteen. Spock decided he would prefer his medical help in a good mood, so he did not mention it.

 

McCoy walked over and stood in front of Spock, needlessly close in Spock opinion, but again he kept quiet. McCoy's strong fingers explored Spock's head, not pressing hard at all but rather with a tenderness Spock often forgot McCoy possessed. He found the bump on Spock's head, but still he caused no pain beyond what Spock agreed necessary to identify the extent of the injury. McCoy hummed apologetically as he ran his fingers through Spock's hair, a vocalisation Spock was almost sure McCoy had not intended to make.

 

“Are you still dizzy?” McCoy asked, his fingers roaming through the rest of Spock's hair. Spock forced the shiver he felt in response to the pleasurable sensation not to manifest.

 

“No, I believe it has passed,” he said, his voice unexpectedly soft.

 

“D'you remember how you got injured?” McCoy asked.

 

Spock did not understand. “Of course,” he said flatly. He saw McCoy's chest huff in slight amusement, furthering Spock's confusion.

 

“Tell me how,” McCoy commanded. Spock decided it wasn't worth fighting over, especially with McCoy's hands still running through his hair the way they were.

 

“A large bird flew at you and, while moving you out of its flight path, I hit my head on an unfortunately placed rock,” Spock said, obeying the direction McCoy was pressing into his head and leaning forward to rest on McCoy's chest. He could feel the doctor's breaths, and beyond that the faint patter of his heart.

 

“Any ringing in your ears, or nausea?” McCoy asked quietly. Spock enjoyed the rumble of his voice through his chest.

 

“Negative.”

 

McCoy's chest was gone and Spock leaned back, not letting his disappointment show. Now that McCoy wasn't running his hands through Spock's hair, Spock could feel his control return and nearly blushed at his weakness.

 

McCoy sat down in front of him, leaving one leg flung over Spock's. Spock quickly decided that despite his mild discomfort he would rather not draw attention to their closeness, so he let McCoy rest his weight on him.

 

“Follow my finger,” McCoy said, a finger raised. Spock followed it easily, taking the moment to admonish himself for his thoughts while McCoy was managing a truly professional behaviour.

 

“Does your head hurt?” McCoy asked after watching Spock's eyes tracking his finger for fifteen seconds.

 

“Of course, I hit a rock,” Spock said.

 

The corners of McCoy's mouth quirked in a smile that was quickly hidden with an unconvincing glare. “Does it hurt anywhere except the area of impact? Any pressure?” he asked.

 

Spock thought for a moment, but found he was not sure, the pain at the back of his head was simply too overwhelming to allow him to easily focus on anything else.

 

Before he had a chance to collect his thoughts and sort through the sensation, McCoy stood up and placed the tips of his pointer fingers against his temples.

 

“Any pain here?” McCoy asked softly.

 

Spock closed his eyes. He found he could focus easily on McCoy's fingers, and the feeling was entirely pleasant. “No,” he whispered.

 

McCoy moved his fingers further back. Spock could feel every millimeter of distance he tracked, every hair McCoy displaced. “Here?” McCoy asked.

 

“No,” Spock whispered, his eyes still closed. He felt light.

 

McCoy's finger moved two inches up and back, managing to land on a particularly sensitive part of Spock's head. “Here?” McCoy asked, whispering.

 

“No,” Spock replied, hoping McCoy would not notice the shake in his voice. He needed to open his eyes soon and stop living only in the sensation of McCoy's fingers against his scalp.

 

“Good,” McCoy said. Spock felt his breath tickle his eyelashes. Spock opened his eyes and was calmly unsurprised to find McCoy immediately before him.

 

McCoy's seemed to freeze, watching Spock. His hands shifted in Spock's hair and Spock found he swiftly lost his self control and by the time he realised that he had decided to do so, he was already kissing McCoy.

 

McCoy's fingers tightened in his hair, perhaps in shock or confusion, and Spock gasped, everything about the moment too much for him as he pressed his lips even more firmly to McCoy's.

 

Suddenly McCoy flew off him. Spock leaned forward, his body chasing him. “Shit,” McCoy muttered, turning away from Spock. Spock felt his mouth open in shock and he breathed for a moment, catching his calm.

 

“Sorry,” McCoy said, his voice muffled. “It's just… Sorry.”

 

McCoy was still not facing him. Spock touched his lips lightly. He looked up at McCoy and was instantly filled with remorse. Spock had put a lot of effort into keeping his feelings private, which had clearly led to him misunderstanding the relationship between them. Not that he'd thought McCoy reciprocated, merely that there was, perhaps, a chance. He didn't think that now.

 

“No, it is…” Spock trailed off. He had meant to take the blame and apologise, but the memory of kissing McCoy had filled him and he had lost the words.

 

“If there is something about my behaviour I can change...” Spock stumbled over his thoughts, his desires and confusion mixing up in his head. He would have sworn that McCoy had kissed him back, but clearly not. His head was rushing and he needed a moment before he could speak, but he couldn't expect McCoy to give him that moment. The situation was immediate. He had encouraged himself, McCoy had shown no interest. As the smitten one, it was his job to stay professional.

 

McCoy turned and faced him. “No!” he said quickly. “I'm your friend. I'm sorry about this, but - but I am your friend.”

 

Spock knew this, but it still cut to have it said. Their relationship shared no romantic element, any romance was one sided and Spock had to accept that.

 

“We work well together,” Spock said quietly, realising a response was required.

 

“We do,” McCoy agreed. “We do, yeah.”

 

Silence fell. Spock ignored the ache in his heart, instead focusing on calming any external appearance of emotion he may be displaying.

 

“I don't think you have a concussion, but, ah, let me know if you feel dizzy or nauseous, yeah?” McCoy said, diligently avoiding eye contact with Spock.

 

Spock nodded. “Of course.”

 

McCoy nodded and turned, walking to the other side of the fire and out of sight. Spock let out a breath as McCoy sat, trusting that the sound of rustling fabric would mask his sigh. He looked down at his hands and began a silent vulcan chant to control his emotions.

  



	3. the resolution

Spock and McCoy sat side by side in the shuttle, heading back to the Enterprise. Spock had found himself uncomfortable around McCoy since he had kissed him a week previously. However, Spock had ensured his behaviour be no different from his norm. The doctor had changed his behaviour: he had been distant and much less jovial.

 

Spock set the shuttle to auto pilot and took a breath. He continued to gaze out the front windows while he broached the topic with McCoy. “Doctor you have not been your usual self around me of late.”

 

In the reflection of the window Spock saw McCoy glanced at him, then turn away and scratch his ear. “Yeah, I know, Spock,” McCoy said quietly, “I’m real sorry, I'm having a bit more trouble with everything than I thought I might.”

 

Silence fell as Spock thought. He had expected McCoy to deny that he had been acting differently, this easy agreement had thrown him off. He had a list of examples of McCoy distancing himself from Spock in the last week that Spock would now not be able to draw on.

 

“Is there anything I can do to ease the situation?” Spock finally asked.

 

“No, no, you're fine,” McCoy said quickly. Another example of his withdrawal from Spock. McCoy pulled his legs into his chair, sitting cross legged and fiddling with the hem of his pants. He had not looked at Spock since glancing at him once earlier. “I am sorry, you know, that I kissed you,” McCoy muttered.

 

Spock looked directly at McCoy, studying his body language. He seemed curled in on himself and uncomfortable. Not the body language of a man who was pulling an unkind prank, but rather one that was unwillingly vulnerable.

 

“That you kissed me, Doctor?” Spock inquired, his heartbeat suddenly much more noticeable.

 

“Yeah, I… It won't happen again.”

 

Spock thought again. The possible miscommunication between them here was clear, and he vitally needed it to be resolved. “You did not kiss me,” he said certainly.

 

McCoy looked over at him quickly, his hair spinning out in his speed. “What're you talking about?” he asked. He stood up, facing Spock. “Have you forgotten? If you had a concussion it's gone untreated, you might need a psych eval, Spock,” he said, his voice full of concern. His eyes were wide and Spock took a moment to enjoy their hue.

 

“No, I remember the incident on Gaerent 2, however, I kissed you,” Spock said calmly, still sitting.

 

McCoy walked to the wall of the shuttle, leaning against it. He crossed his arms and glared at Spock. “No, I kissed you, and you handled my unwanted approach with grace, don't get nasty now.”

 

“I am never nasty,” Spock said.

 

McCoy huffed a laugh. “Well, that aint true.”

 

A beat of silence hit as their familiar ribbing ceased. “Doctor, I kissed you,” Spock said with a sigh.

 

“No you didn't!” McCoy shouted, fling his arms wide. One of his hands hit the wall and McCoy spent a moment glaring at it, as if it had offended him by hurting.

 

Spock thought for a moment. McCoy, clearly, did not believe him. Given that Spock had kissed McCoy a week ago and that hadn't destroyed their relationship their was clearly more maturity and forgiveness between them then he'd realised. He decided that a flat truth could do no more damage than a kiss.

 

“You were sitting close to me,” Spock murmured, the tone of his voice drawing McCoy's full attention to him. “Murmuring your questions in a low voice and running your hands through my hair. I specifically remember the desire to kiss you and the act of doing so.” He looked up at McCoy, not realising he'd been staring at his own hands while delivering his statement. McCoy seemed pissed off and confused. “I am somewhat consumed by our differing accounts,” Spock said quietly.

 

McCoy looked down, seemingly ashamed. After a few moments he looked back up and cocked his head to the side, raised an eyebrow and smiled. Spock found the smile to be sarcastic.

 

“Desire to kiss me, eh?” McCoy said, his smile widening.

 

Spock felt himself blush and reprimanded himself internally for it.  “As you well know,” he reproached.

 

McCoy's smile faltered. “What am I meant to know?” he asked, raising both his eyebrows.

Spock stared at him for a full two seconds. “My desire for you,” he said plainly.

 

McCoy's mouth fell open, his eyebrows shooting up. He closed and opened his mouth a few times before speaking. “Well,” he said shakily, “If that's a fact it's one I haven't heard before.”

 

Spock felt a rush of hope and frustration. “I told you two months and three weeks ago!” he said, trying very hard to contain his annoyance.

 

McCoy huffed a laugh. “You did not.”

 

Spock stood up, he couldn't help it. McCoy seemed startled that he had. “I came to your office and told you that I hoped out friendship may continue to grow and evolve,” Spock said, clasping his hands behind his back to try and keep himself centered.

 

“Well that's hardly admitting to a desire for me!” McCoy said loudly, stumbling over the word desire. He crossed his arms scowled.

 

“That was my preamble to see what your opinion on the subject was,” Spock said, suddenly too aware that they were on duty and shouldn't be having this conversation now. “Your response to that was to say that deep down you wished to _leave your life in space and never see a one of us again. Especially you, Mr. Spock_ ,” Spock imitated McCoy's speech pattern, a hint of southern accent coming through in his quote. He hoped McCoy hadn't noticed the mockery.

 

McCoy sighed and stepped away from the wall to lean on the back of his seat, looking at Spock thoughtfully. “I do remember that day,” he said once Spock had sgarted to feel uncomfortable due to the silence. “We'd just gotten back from a planet where we'd watched a whole town burn, Spock. I’d’ve said that to anyone who walked into my office then. And I didn't realise you were admitting to feelings for me.” McCoy's kind expression faltered and he frowned slightly. “That is what you're doing, right? Admitting to feelings for me?”

 

“I hesitate to categorise them as feelings, but a vested romantic interest to be sure,” Spock said slowly.

 

McCoy laughed to himself, “‘course,” he said shortly. Not an apology, Spock noted. Spock then quickly stopped considering McCoy's words because McCoy was walking around his chair to come stand close to Spock. Quite close. A professional distance to be sure, but a nearness that Spock found to not be in tune with the discomfort he felt.

 

McCoy stopped in front of him, his serious expression betrayed by his cheerful bounce.”Well, you seem to want me. And I want you. A fact I have been quite clear about, I think,” McCoy said, smiling easily. His knucles were white with how tightly he was wringing his hands and he kept biting his lip then letting go quickly.

 

“I don't think you have been clear about that at all,” Spock said, proud of the steadiness of his voice. His heartbeat was fast.

 

McCoy ducked his head, glancing at his feet. When he looked up Spock was startled to see him blushing. “Well I meant to be. I want you, Spock. Most desperately,” McCoy muttered, his blush growing.

 

Spock had read that humans could not control their blushing, that they could not stop it when it happener nor bring it on at will. Spock found himself thinking about the effect of McCoy's blush more than the science that causes it, admiring how bright his blue eyes were in comparison. Then Spock remembered what McCoy had said and his world spun for a moment.

 

McCoy was still biting his lower lip and Spock was struggling to find a reason to let him continue. McCoy worrying his lip was distracting Spock from considering the true long term consequences of this discussion. Also, the best solution Spock had come up with was to involve McCoy's lips by kissing him, and that move was endlessly desireable.

 

McCoy cleared his throat and scuffed one of his shoes against another. Spock realised he had been silent for nearly a minute and McCoy was clearly growing concerned.

 

“So, ah…” McCoy trailed off, glancing at Spock with wide eyes. Spock was instantly terrified that he'd missed his chance, so he leant forward without detailed thought or planning and kissed McCoy.

 

McCoy didn't kiss him back, instead he seemed to be smiling beneath Spock's lips. Spock enjoyed the intimacy of being able to tell McCoy's expression through touch rather than sight for a moment before he drew away.

 

McCoy was indeed smiling, his eyes bright and hopeful. Spock raised his hand to McCoy's mouth, running his thumb lightly along his lip. McCoy's lip was still flushed from his earlier worry.

 

When Spock touched McCoy's lip, McCoy's mouth fell slightly open in surprise. Suddenly McCoy laughed, then said, “Alright, then,” and pushed Spock's hand away from his face, his other hand coming to curl behind Spock's neck, his fingers in Spock's hair again, and leaning forward to kiss him.

 

Spock gave as good as he could, but McCoy felt desperate. McCoy leaned into him, holding him tight, so Spock held him tighter again. McCoy pushed against him and Spock overbalanced slightly, stepping back to avoid falling but pulling McCoy with him. McCoy kept moving forwards, pushing Spock back until he hit the control panel.

 

McCoy's hand dropped to his shirt, scrunching it in his fist and pulling Spock in to deepen their kiss. Spock gasped, his hand hitting the control panel behind him to steady himself. The shuttle craft lurched to the side, flinging McCoy into the side of Spock's seat. Spock turned around, his head still spinning, and quickly identified the buttons he'd mistakenly pressed and righted the ship.

 

“Are you hurt?” he asked, turning to check on McCoy. McCoy was still holding the chair he'd hit, but was standing fine. He shook his head and began to chuckle, the situation apparently funny to him.

 

“Spock,” Jim's voice crackled through the comm, “What's going on, you spun off for a moment there?”

 

Spock ignored the giggling doctor and answered the comm. “We're fine, Captain, everything's under control again,” Spock said.

 

“What happened?” Jim demanded.

 

McCoy lightly pushed Spock out of the way, a large smile still on his face. “I sat on the controls, Jim, I thought we were on autopilot.”

 

Spock looked at him in surprise. McCoy just winked at him and Spock was briefly furious with himself for his immediately infatuated response. Spock didn't know what his expression might be, but whatever it was it was making McCoy smile even more.

 

“I'm sorry I sicced him on you, Spock,” Jim said, sounding more amused than apologetic.

 

“Quite alright, Captain. Docking in four minutes, Spock out,” Spock said, flicking the comm off. McCoy was still standing next to him, needlessly close. “You should buckle in, Doctor, we're docking shortly.”

 

McCoy raised an eyebrow slowly. “Doctor?” he repeated. Despite his objection to Spock's form of reference, he made his way to his seat and began to buckle in.

 

“We're on duty, therefore I shall call you Doctor,” Spock said, refusing to look McCoy's way. He needed to focus on docking procedures now. Vector trajectories from Scotty were already coming in.

 

McCoy chucked. “Well, if this is how you want to behave on duty, you'll have no complaints from me.”

 

Spock rolled his eyes. They sat in a comfortable if weighted silence as Spock maneuvered the shuttle into the docking bay. While the air around the shuttle equalised, Spock turned to McCoy. “Would you like to join me in my quarters after our shift?” he asked quietly.

 

McCoy looked over at him, a fresh smile blossoming across his face. “Sounds like a sure thing, Mr. Spock. But I insist you call me Leonard when we're off duty,” he said.

 

Spock looked away to unbuckle himself, and hide the tell tale signs of his small smile. “Very well,” he said, “But what will you call me?”

 

McCoy paused, already out of his chair and half way to exiting the shuttle. “I'll have to think on that,” he said softly. He turned to face Spock and leant down, surprising Spock by kissing him lightly on his eyebrow. “I'll see you tonight,” he said.

 

Spock waited for McCoy to leave before moving. As the doctor took the steps out, Spock heard him pause and mutter, “Holy shit,” to himself.

**Author's Note:**

> i fucking loved writing this hot damn spock is keen


End file.
